


Rules and traditions

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Sherlock December Ficlets 2017 [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Kid Mycroft, Kid Sherlock, Sherlock December Ficlets 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 04:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13138719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: The boys work together to get to the presents as fast as possible





	Rules and traditions

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of the [Sherlock December Ficlets ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fcollections%2FSherlock_December_Ficlets_2017&t=NjRmODc4ZjE3OGJjNjUzYzg2NWVhY2QzMTRjNDJmOTUwMzdkOTRhMCxabzFVQjBkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AfMPAp7-tN-90HMCNGHRDOw&p=http%3A%2F%2Fmissdaviswrites.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167644180668%2Fsherlock-december-ficlets&m=0) challenge. Each will be its own story, though knowing me a couple may follow an arc of sorts.  
> The prompt used for this entry: Christmas Crackers / Favorite Tradition

“Do you like it?” Mycroft asks, but he can see the gleam in his little brother’s eyes and already knows the answer.

Sherlock’s cherub face lights up with joy immediately plopping the buccaneer’s hat atop his disarray of curls.

“I love it, Myc! You’re the best, brother!” The boy launched himself from the floor into his arms, knocking them both to the floor.

The twelve-year-old could not help but smile as Sherlock unfurled with cat like grace to stand. He places his fists on hips, chin pointed to horizons only his five-year-old mind can see. “Arrgh Matey! With this hat I can pillage the frigate of its booty and then sail due east by sundown, yar!”

“But it’s almost 9pm, oh ye young terror of the seas, you know what that means.”

“But Mummy! I’m not the least bit sleepy! One more, please? Pretty please?” Sherlock the Pirate turned to his mother, pulling the puppy-eyes with full force. “Pretty, pretty, pretty pleeeeeeeease?”

Mycroft was more than willing to let Sherlock do all the legwork of pleading with Mummy. His brother was proving to be quite the little con artist.

“What are the Christmas Eve rules and traditions, little boy?”

“I can only open one present tonight. I cannot open anything else until after 6am at the earliest. Even if I am awake after midnight. Each person opens a present until all are done. Christmas crackers at lunch. Pyjamas and hot cocoa all day.” Sherlock recites.

“And…” Mummy prompts, not letting him get away with the original point.

“And I have to go to bed at nine.” He pouts as the grandfather clock in the corner chimes the hour.

“But…” tears well in those beautiful eyes and Mycroft has to turn his head to keep from grinning at his brother’s audacity. This was a new trick from his brother, but a definite trick nonetheless.

“Liam go!” He can see Mummy is both amused and annoyed at the shenanigans even as she points a stern finger towards the stairs.

When Mummy uses that name with him, Sherlock knows he has lost the battle and the tears immediately stop. Mycroft does smile then.

“I’ll come back and clean up Mummy.” Mycroft gets up from the mess of giftwrap paper on the floor, holding out his hand for his brother. Next year when Sherlock is six, he can stay up until 10pm and then at age nine until 11pm. At twelve years of age, Mycroft can stay up until midnight for the first time. “The sooner you go to bed, the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner it will feel like morning will come.”

“Morning is going to come in nine hours, regardless of whether I go to sleep now or later.” Sherlock reluctantly takes his big brother’s hand.

“That is why I said _it will feel like_ it will come sooner, not that it actually would.” Mycroft admonished hoisting the boy on his hip “Come matey, let’s go find Dad the Scallywag and say goodnight.”

“Goodnight Bootstrap Billy.” Mummy blows a kiss to her youngest.

“No, I will be Yellowbeard the Feared and I’ll plunder my booty in the morning! ‘Night Mummy!” Sherlock loudly blows a kiss back.

<><><> 

Sherlock peeks his mop of unruly curls through a crack of his bedroom door only to find Mycroft waiting for him at the top of the stairs, in his striped pyjamas, a finger to his lips. The elder Holmes son smiling at the younger in his yellow and white striped pyjamas with embroidered bees all over, his buccaneer hat on.

“What are you doing up at a quarter of six, Myc?” Sherlock pouts as Mycroft comes into his room and gently closes the door.

“Waiting for you little brother to give you the heads up.” Mycroft whispers with a smile. He didn’t think to set his alarm fifteen minutes ahead until he was seven. Sherlock thought of it a few days shy of six years old. “Mummy is going to try to stall here’s what you need to do…”

At 5:59 the brothers tear out of their respective bedrooms and run down the steps to reach the presents at 6am on the dot only to find the door blocked by their mother. She was wearing celadon pyjamas with white piping, under her white dressing gown.

“Happy Christmas boys!”

“Happy Christmas Mummy! Bed made. Face washed. Teethed brushed.” Sherlock bounced in place with excited glee.

Violet narrowed her eyes at her eldest son.

“Happy Christmas Mummy. My ablutions are equally complete.” Mycroft gave an innocent shrug.

“New word!” Sherlock waited for its definition, as was his unofficial rule of the house whenever he heard or read a new word. The sound of their father’s rich laughter travelled from inside the living room interrupts the telling of the definition.

“Oh no! You’re in trouble now, Violet. In cahoots together, are they? Might as well let them in – right boys?” Siger calls out.

“Yes!” The Holmes brothers cheered in unison.

“New word” Sherlock added.

“Are all the males, in this house, plotting against me?” Violet throws her hands to the sky in mock surrender as she steps aside.

"Yes!” The Holmes brothers and their father cheered in unison.

She shakes her head and smiles at her men. Today is the eye of the storm. Mycroft will be attending uni in a few weeks and Sherlock is not happy that he is leaving. She knows everything is about to change, but today everyone is happy and that's all she can hope for each day.

Siger knows there will come a day when their sons may be a bit much for them the handle, but that day is not today. The sons run to their father already holding mugs of cocoa out to them because he and Violet knew they would come tearing down at exactly 6am. That not-so-far off day will take care of itself.

Today was for fun and food and traditions.

“Ladies first.” He winks at his wife as she joins them, passing her a Christmas cracker and the first present of the day for opening.


End file.
